


the darkness before the dawn

by orphan_account



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Author Projecting onto Ben Hargreeves, BPD, Ben Hargreeves Lives, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Beta read because neither me or Ben are dying in this, Bisexual Ben Hargreeves, Bisexual Male Character, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Dissociation, Everyone Has Issues, Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I stg this fandom, I wrote this instead of healing from my own trauma, I'm Sorry, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Oop, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, There's definitely hurting!, Trigger Warnings, Why do I have to fucking tag that, close friends, especially ben, ooooop, oop my finger slipped when i typed that name, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25936093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ~Trigger Warnings~What if when Ben Hargreeves was 14, he failed at suicide? What if he had been there fully with his siblings as the apocalypse almost happens? What if he had been hiding his problems and his pain until they blew up?Officially abandoned, sorry guys
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 32
Kudos: 86





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay TRIGGER WARNING. HUGE TRIGGER WARNING. I'll post them in the end notes.
> 
> Also, for updates and more writing check out my tumblr 1nkwrites.tumblr.com

October 1st, 1989 was when everything changed. On that day 43 children were born, but it was anything but a normal birth. The mothers (and some fathers, and some non binary parents) were not pregnant before hand, were showing no signs of pregnancy before hand, and the majority had not even had sex 9 months ago. Some were younger, even. Many were virgins. The locations seemed random. The people seemed random. The date seemed random. Everything about the situation was random.

What did Reginald Hargeeves do when he saw something odd? He bought it. He didn’t care if it was an object or a human, because they were all the same in the eyes of Reginald. Both humans and (some) objects could be programmed and made into tools. Any human can become a gun if made into one. 

Of course, Reginald couldn’t adopt 43 babies. Instead, he adopted 7. He didn’t give them names, he only gave them numbers because that’s what they were to him. The children were simply objects. Guns.

6 of them developed powers. Number one developed super strength. Number two developed the ability to bend metal. Number three developed the ability to control minds. Number four developed the ability to interact with the dead. Number five developed the ability to teleport. Number six developed cruel tentacles that would brutally rip anyone apart.

Number seven seemed perfectly ordinary.

Well, number seven seemed ordinary to everyone else. Reginald Hargreeves had deemed her too dangerous. He deemed her out of control. He deemed her to be a bomb, and defused her with pills and brainwashing. When an object is dangerous, it needs to be deactivated. Reginald's only regret was that simply destroying the bomb would set off a completely different one - the wrath of number sevens siblings. 

Reginald began programming the ones who were useful, like he programmed their mother. Eventually they got their names, which Reginald preferred not to use. Objects don’t have names.

They were created into weapons at twelve. The majority would show mercy. Number six, or ben as he liked to call himself, showed no mercy. More accurately, the monsters inside him showed no mercy. He had a disappointing amount of control over them, and would return from battles looking terrified and shaken. Most children who came home covered in blood would be. Reginald long suspected the child had PTSD, possibly C-PTSD, but decided to not treat it. Six would need to get over it on his own.

Reginald preferred to give the illusion of privacy over actual privacy. When number six began journalling, it didn't take long for Reginald to find it and pick the lock. 

Reginald was disappointed at multiple things in the journal. For one, number six's handwriting was near illegible. For two, the entire journal radiated weakness. How weak six was in not being able to control the horror. How weak he was for not controlling the flashbacks. How weak he was for hating himself. How weak he was for hurting himself. Number six was a hero. Heros do not lose control. Heros do not have flashbacks. Heros are not terrified of themselves. Heros are the face of strength and power, not of fear. 

Number six journaled pages of how scared he was of himself. His weakness was always going to be love, no matter how much Reginald tried to remove it from his human object it festered. Said love caused number six to be ashamed and afraid. Unacceptable. 

At the age of fourteen, six almost died. Not in battle, not in sacrifice, not even naturally, six attempted suicide.

Reginald had not been present, but number four had. If a child had information, said child had to share it. Doing otherwise would be adequately punished. “Describe in as much detail as possible what you witnessed.” Reginald's hands were folded in his lap, the sign of a man who is not deranged but not to be messed with. 

Four was shaking. A sign of weakness, at least in the eyes of Reginald. “Do I have to?”

Reginald wasn’t particularly angry, but he feigned anger to scare number four into talking. He forced red to consume his face, raised his voice, and slapped the table. “You will tell me!”

Number four’s shaking increased, but he thankfully opened his mouth. “W We going into the bank and Ben was there, we were about to wipe out the rest of the robbers with the horror but then I saw Ben walk into the back room. He tried to cut his wrist, and then the h- horrors came out and started a- attacking his arm, and he was sc- screaming, and I had to calm him down so the monsters would retreat, and then he p passed out.”

Reginald looked at the visibly shaken and dissociated boy. He was most likely in a flashback. Fairly normal within the first few weeks after a traumatic experience. Reginald hoped four wouldn’t develop PTSD, it’s bad enough to have one hero attempting suicide.

“Dismissed.” Reginald always spoke with authority unless something else was required. 

Ben slowly opened his eyes. First it was vision coming back to him, then it was memories. He would have preferred to stick with vision any day. Everything flooded back to him - the suicide attempt, the horror, and Klaus.

Oh god.    
Klaus.

He was going to be scared - the scene Ben attempted to die in wasn’t a pretty one. And then again, it wasn’t the first time the horror had ripped people to shreds while everyone else simply watched. Ben was simply another human. There were 7.8 billion in the world, and he was just a 14 year old who couldn’t control the monsters inside of him. Who would even care if he died?

Ben fell back asleep.

Ben woke back up.

When he opened his eyes again he saw Klaus. The boy who nonconsensually saved Ben’s life had obvious tears in his eyes, and his leg bumped up and down rhythmically.  _ Bobbing up and down like the tentacles as they ripped and tore int- _

Ben let out a slight hiss at the pain in his arm. Reginald had been reluctant to give him too much pain killer, and while Ben could see the danger of giving a suicidal person drugs that didn’t mean he was fond of it.

“Ben?” Klaus practically (or was it literally?) flew over to Ben. “Oh god I’m so happy you’re awake!”

“Hey.” Ben couldn’t bring himself to smile, through both the physical pain and the emotional pain plaguing him. Ben preferred the physical pain, and the signs of that were displayed on his arms and thighs.

Speaking of such, Ben realized he was in a short sleeved gown. His left arm had bandages almost up to his elbows, but his right arm (which was less scarred, but still an obvious sign of his weakness) and thighs were open for all to see.

Ben tried to move his arms under the blanket. Klaus, of course, noticed said action. “You don’t have to hide them near me. You’re my brother, Ben, and I love you. All of you, even your scars.”

Ben looked up at Klaus. “I love you too, Klaus.” That sentence may be the most truthful thing Ben had ever said in his life. Ben loved his brother, and could almost pretend that the Hargeeves were a normal family. 

Then Ben remembered he was in the hospital after he tried to rip himself apart with monstrous interdimensional tentacles, and he didn’t feel normal anymore.

Ben tried to heal, he really did. However, locking Ben up, alone with his thoughts, wasn’t the best way to go about that. Every minute of his life he was itching for a blade. When no one was around he would scratch at his arm, trying to reopen old self harm wounds. He never touched his wrist, where the deadly damage was. No matter how much Ben wanted to end it all, doing so in the infirmary was a stupid idea. Instead he waited to get out, and even if he didn’t end it - Klaus’s tears were stabbing into his will to die - Ben at least wanted to calm the urge. 

Ben stayed locked up for two weeks. It felt as though every second spent without his blood flowing was a minute. Klaus accompanied him for the majority of his time, along with his other siblings. They would all visit him once a day. Klaus visited him the most, though. It seemed 75% of Ben's time was spent with someone at his side, and Ben couldn't be more grateful. 

Well, he would be more grateful if he had a blade. 

Eventually Ben was freed. His siblings decided to celebrate and throw a small party (on a saturday of course) but Ben was unable to enjoy it. The entire time he was itching for a blade. He was  _ so close _ \- and it was hell. 

As soon as Ben was free he all but ran towards his drawer. He reached around every folded up sock, but the blade was gone.

A voice came from his doorway. “I took your razor, by the way.”

Ben turned towards Klaus. Once again, Klaus was Ben’s nonconsensual savior. 

“I wasn’t looking for that, I was just grabbing some socks.” 

“You’re already wearing socks” was accompanied by a dark smile. It showed no happiness or humor - why would someone find those things in their brother desperately looking for a way to harm himself? Klaus would never turn off his humor, however. After all, doing so would mean having to face up to his emotions. Facing up to his emotions would mean admitting that he has a problem, as much as any of the Hargreeves (save for Reginald) do. Ben - along with the rest of his siblings - knew Klaus admitting his problems would take the end of the world. 

Ben opted in for a fake happy smile. “I wanted better ones.”

Klaus simply raised his eyebrow.

Ben knew he couldn’t talk his way out of this. “Sorry. Any chance I can have my razor back?”

Klaus’s humorless smile turned into a humorless laugh. “There’s no way in hell I’m giving you a way to hurt yourself.” Klaus was far too moral. Why couldn't he just turn his back and let Ben fall apart?

Ben knew why, and Ben wouldn't wish for Klaus to stop caring for him in a million years. But when you need protection from yourself, being cared for can hurt. 

Ben needed excuses, something, anything to get it back. Blood was oxygen, and Ben was choking. Even though Ben knew it was a bad idea, knew it would hurt Klaus is he hurt himself, he pushed on for his oxygen. “How am I supposed to shave?” Ben hadn’t started shaving yet, but Klaus didn’t need to know that. 

“You can use mine if you need to. I’m not seeing much of a stubble though, Benerino.”

When Ben smiled this time, it was real. Klaus’s nickname for him always managed to make him smile. It brought back memories of the two having fun, and being kids. It was a rare occurrence but a very treasured one. 

Something came over Ben suddenly, and before he knew it Ben was wrapping Klaus in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, god I'm  _ so sorry, _ I’m sorry you saw that and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.” At this point tears were overflowing from Ben’s eyes. When Klaus noticed Ben’s shaking shoulders he hugged him tighter, and it felt safer than the infirmary. Although Klaus was silent for the first time in his life, the tight hug said everything Ben needed to hear.  _ You’re not alone, and you can get through this. We all love you. You can survive, and you can heal. _

And this time, Ben believed it.


	2. Funerals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, as a matter of fact, I am publishing two chapters in one day. I'm eAGER okay?!?!!? 
> 
> More triggers? Mmmm yes please. Check the end notes if you wants :)

March 24th, 2019 was when everything changed. There was a perfectly normal amount of perfectly normal births. There was a perfectly normal amount of perfectly normal deaths. The abnormality of this day was not in the numbers - it was in the people. On that day, Reginald Hargreeves died.

“Breaking news” was the phrase that warranted a glance away from Ben’s book. Usually he would simply read the scrolling text and then get back to it, but the face of Ben’s father forced him to stop short.

 _Breaking news: The eccentric billionaire sir Reginald Hargreeves was found dead in his mansion earlier today. He is know for raising six sup-_

The screen went black without warning. Ben glazed over at the usually cheerful Klaus, who’s face seemed frozen in something unidentifiable. Grief was a fairly expected emotion, but this wasn’t it. Reginald was hardly Ben and Klaus’s father. He had weaponized them as young children, he had deprived them of everything a child needs in all regards, and it left them broken. There were 7 cups that had been dropped on October 1st, 1989 and they were only beginning to repair them 29 years later.

No matter how much Ben hated it, he had become dependent on the attention of his father. Klaus had his drugs - or used to, he had been sober for 7 years - and Ben had the very rare attention of his father. Every hit brought him adrenaline and a short break from that emptiness that never seemed to escape. Sometimes Ben’s stomach was hungry, and sometimes his brain was. 

Now his drug was dead. 

Klaus leaned forwards and clasped his hands. Anyone else would see this as a normal motion. Ben saw it as a trait picked up from Reginald. “Looks like we’re going home.”

The drive over passed in a blur. It was like Ben wasn’t there, but he was. All his problems disappeared when he zoomed out, but it made controlling things seem strange. It was like Ben was god, pressing a button for _walk forwards_ and _look at Klaus_.

The mansion came into view and Ben snapped back temporarily. The memories flooded towards him - thankfully these weren’t the horrible ones that left Ben shaking, but they weren’t all good. His entire childhood had taken place behind those walls. Up until 17 he had almost never left, until it was to make the worst memories imaginable. 

The inside - which Ben now stepped foot in, how had he gotten there? - was almost empty. Soon he spotted Vanya. He felt Klaus shift slightly, a discomfort but nowhere near the level of hatred Diego managed to store. She seemed so small in such a large house. She had always been that small, Ben supposed. Just a small girl with no powers in a big house. Never more that a footnote in their life.

Her book, the very book that led the Hargreeves to turn against her, had made her big. She stood as a digital giant as millions of people read her words. Yet all it took was one man dying to make her small again. 

Ben gave her a smile. He saw what none of his siblings seemed to see - she had been wronged by them. They had seen her as a footnote in the family. They excluded her all her life, and then when she wrote of her pain they excluded her more. 

Vanya returned the smile. “Hey.”

Just as Vanya was about to open her mouth a figure clad in what seemed to be armor saw her. “You have a lot of nerve being here,” the figure which Ben almost immediately identified as Diego said with hatred spilling out of his veins.

_Blood spilled out of the corpse of the man before him. The monstrous tentacles stabbed holes in the man’s black clothing and came out the other side, and Ben just watched and allowed it. Another death. Another cut. That night, he made blood spill out of his ve-_

Focus. Ben had been clean for almost 17 years, and he wasn't about to let the death of a man he hated change that. 

Klaus opted for simply walking away, likely off to go spit on Reginald's grave. This left Ben alone with Diego, Vanya, and the tension in the air. 

"She's our sister, Diego." No matter how uncomfortable Ben was with confrontation, Vanya was more uncomfortable with being isolated, once again. 

Diego simply gave a smirk, and walked off. 

Ben decided to reminisce a bit, and opted to visit his childhood room. It was like any teenagers room - it was filled to the brim with posters and random objects. Ben hated it looking clean, and had eventually managed to convince Mom to stop cleaning it because it will "teach him responsibility."

Ben's eyes landed on the sock drawer. 

Those were some memories he'd rather forget. 

The memories were so strong they had Ben grabbing his forehead to focus. Maybe visiting his old bedroom wasn’t the best idea.

Ben walked towards his father’s bedroom, the place where he died. Had Reginald been murdered? It was unlikely, but nothing is impossible. The six super kids living in this house was proof enough of that. 

Ben stopped short at the figure hunched near the windows in Reginald’s old bedroom. It was Luther, or Luther’s head at least. The man had almost symian proportions, and while he looked like he weighed a ton Ben knew, logically, it was impossible for him to weigh that much, it was still a frightening sight.

“Luther? You’ve grown a bit.” That was probably the wrong thing to say, but Ben’s brain seemed to stop short at the obvious change in Luther. Had Reginald done that to him?

Luther seemed to repress a grimace during his words of “hey Ben.” 

Ben had been so stupid. Of course you don’t comment on things like that. “What are you doing up here?”

Luther averted his eyes.

Ben gave a slight smile. “Here’s to save you some time. The medical report. Just a regular heart failure. No murder.”

“Then what about the monocle?” Luther always tried to keep a strong face as number one, but no matter how many smiles he plastered on Ben could see what he was hiding. Pain and grief. 

Ben spared his brother a slightly quizzical expression. “The monocle? What about it?”

“Name one time Dad went without it. It’s missing.”

Ben exhaled some exasperated air from his mouth at Luther’s attempts to find a person to blame. It’s always easier to blame someone who you can kill than to blame someone who will always be there. “He didn’t sleep with it. He probably knocked it off or something.”  
Luther just turned back to the window. Fairly clear hint to Ben that he should leave. 15 years apart of each other made the siblings strangers.

The siblings sat at the dining room table, but they weren’t eating. They were contemplating. 

It was Klaus who spoke up. “So are we going to do this? Go and pay our respects, talk about how much of a _great father_ Reggie was? Pretend he didn’t completely screw us over?”

All what, 8 feet, of Luther stood up. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Here, let me rephrase. He fucked us all up, you most of all and you still run home to him,” Klaus mimed dog paws, “like a sad puppy.”

Ben sighed slightly and leaned back in the wooden chair he had never been allowed in. “Guys-”

Ben’s words were cut short at Luther taking a swing at Klaus. Klaus smirked, but thankfully didn’t retaliate and instead opted in for dodging it.

Allison cut in. “Guys! Can we just have a decent funeral service without killing each other?”

“Where should we hold it?” Vanya was clearly uncomfortable with speaking up in an audience that both hated her and had just thrown punches, and of course Diego and Luther decided to increase that discomfort by shooting glares more deadly than any punch they could throw.   
“Dad’s favorite spot,” Luther ceased fire. “Under the elm tree.”

Diego gave a smirk at the human characteristic of Reginald. “Oh look, he has a favorite spot. Perfect to match his favorite kid, amirite big guy?” Of course Diego had to add a shoulder slap to his mock. 

Luther all but growled, but thankfully no more punches were thrown. 

Under the tree there was no wind, and the ashes fell straight down.

A fitting ending. 

Pogo, who had been waiting in the library until the service, spoke up. “Would anyone like to say a few words?”

SIlence. 

“Well, if no one else will, I will. In all regards, your father made me into what I am today, and for that I am forever in his debt. He was not the best man, or the best father in many regards, but he did make an effort.”

A dry laugh caused the Hargreeve’s heads to turn to Diego. “Look at us! He ruined our childhood, and Be-” Diego stopped short, looking ashamed. 

Just what Ben needed, his attempt 17 years ago to be brought up. Some things are never forgotten.

Everyone shuffled their feet uncertainly. They all knew what Diego was going to say. As Ben wordlessly went inside, Allison gave a small scoff. “Nice going, Diego.” 

Soon they had all left. 

Ben decided to go back to his room. He wanted to cut, but he wasn’t planning on breaking his 17 year clean streak over something so irrelevant. 

Instead Ben flopped down on his bed, eyes avoiding the sock drawer.

God, what had Ben been _thinking?_

He knew exactly what he was thinking.

 _Ben couldn’t get blood on his hands again. He couldn’t go home covered in blood. What if one day, that blood was of his family? What if he couldn’t stop the monsters?_ _  
_ _The only way to stop them was to kill them._

_The only way to kill them was to kill himself._

_It’s not like Ben didn’t spend every night wishing he was dead. He almost wanted a chance at life, but oh well. The flashbacks, the constant numb, everything was stabbing into his will to live._

_Ben pulled a knife out of his pockets. He always carried one for when he wanted to not be the god of destruction for a few seconds. Mercy was something he almost never was allowed to give, and he used it when possible._

_It’s almost never possible._

_He pressed down vertically on his wrist and saw blood. So much blood, he almost felt nauseous until he remembered it was okay because it was his._

_Of course, he wasn’t the only one who noticed the blood. The horrors jammed against his abdomen, and this time Ben didn’t control them. He let them attack him._

_Pain shot through his arm. That’s what the people he killed felt. He deserved it. An eye for an eye. Oga for Oga._

_Ben couldn’t help it. He screamed. He screamed exactly like his victims. He was his own victim now._

_“Ben?” No. Not Klaus. Klaus couldn’t be here._

_Too late._

_Ben’s vision went black._

_Silence._

Ben snapped out of the flashback. He noticed himself shaking slightly, and forcibly steadied his shoulders.

Until he noticed it wasn’t just his shoulders shaking. The entire room - no, building - was trembling slightly. As a blinding flash of blue came from his window, Ben deemed finding the source to be a good idea.

Ben paid no attention to the other six people running outside. What he paid attention to was the giant blue light. “What the hell is that?” 

Pogo decided to voice his educated guess. “It looks like some form of temporal anomaly, or maybe a black hole.” 

“Pretty big difference there, Pogo!”

At that moment Klaus - when had he disappeared? - arrived with a… fire extinguisher? He threw it into the temporal anomaly just as a figure fell out.

That figure was Number Five. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for graphic murder, graphic attempted suicide, PTSD flashbacks, dissociation, and death. You can guess what happens aha.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers at the end. If you get triggered by literally anything I would recommend reading them. 
> 
> This is your daily reminder that saddest-rat is the best user on tumblr

“Shit.”

Everyone stared at the figure known as Number Five as he walked inside. They kept staring as he made a marshmallow sandwich. They kept staring as he teleported around the room like nothing had happened in 17 years. He hadn’t aged a day, or at least seemed to. Had he time traveled forwards into today? It was most likely, although it didn’t explain his confusion at being 13. 

“Where have you been? It’s been 17 years.” Ben had managed to shake himself from the stupor induced by the arrival of his younger twin brother to ask what was hopefully the most sensible question, and the easiest to process. 

Five let out a small chuckle, but it held no humor inside of it. “Oh, it’s been a  _ lot _ longer than that. Someone give me the date. The exact date.”

“March 24th.” Vanya spoke with confusion, for a reason incomprehensible to Ben. Five was a time traveler, he would want to know where he landed. If you had teleported to a random location, you would want to know where.

Five slid off the stool, and his feet touched ground once again. 13 was so young. Far too young to be a hero

Just as Five was about to make his early exit, Luther voiced the question that had been floating in everyone’s mind. “How did you get here? And how are you 13 again?”

“By projecting my consciousness backwards into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists in every possible instance of time.” How could Five seem so bored while talking about something so interesting?

Diego shot Five a confused expression. “That makes no sense.”

Five didn’t even spare Diego a glance. “It would if you were smarter.” Five’s vision panned along the room, and Ben couldn’t help but note the resemblance in Five looking at them and a wolf hunting. “So. Did I miss the funeral?”

“How’d you know about that?” Thankfully, Five was human again in Ben’s mind.

The boy almost seemed to bare his teeth. “What part of the future do you not understand?” 

Five slammed the door to his room as he exited, causing a burst of panic and a flinch from Ben.

When Klaus found Ben, he was understandably surprised. No one was oblivious to the fact that Ben was avoiding his old room like the plague, but the siblings had plenty of skeletons in their closets, and understood making Ben talk would mean making themselves talk. Avoiding and repressing emotions was a mutual understanding more than an act to be practiced in secret.

Ben’s room was the last place Klaus assumed he would find Ben, but here we are. He was sprawled out face down, and had taken off his jacket to show his arms. The scars on Ben’s forearms were barely more than a whisper, easily mistaken for innocent texture, but the scar on his left wrist was bumpy as ever, even if healed. Anyone would be able to know what it was, and Ben had rarely worn short sleeves because of it. 

Klaus leaned back on the wall, and once Ben noticed the tall figure Klaus waved his hand at Ben. Klaus wouldn’t realize he waved the hand saying goodbye until later.

Ben sent a small, but humored smile at Klaus as he sat up. “Today has been one of the craziest days of my life,” he said matter of factly.

“Your 60 year old twin brother who looks like a 13 year old dropping out of the sky will cause that.” 

Once Ben started laughing he couldn’t stop, and then he was crying, and then he was sobbing. The tears weren’t necessarily tears of humor, or tears of sadness. They were tears of grief. Not grief for Reginald, grief for a childhood that Ben would never get to experience. He had lost that chance less than a day after being born, and he could never get it back.

Klaus wrapped Ben in a tight embrace. Ben saw no need to tell Klaus what he was mourning for, Ben had seen Klaus mourn for the same childhood many times before.

What would that childhood have been like? Would there have been a happy mother and father? Would the mother kiss her husband on the cheek every day while holding a plate of warm cookies? Would she call Ben and Klaus in for dinner? Would they pretend to hate their vegetables but actually be grateful she had cooked them?

Would Ben be able to control the horror? Would Klaus be able to control the ghosts?

That wasn’t the reality, and Ben had to accept that. He just didn’t know how. 

_ Tap tap tap _

Ben shuffled awkwardly outside the door of Number Five. After a few seconds of waiting, the door swung open to show a deranged-looking Five. It wasn’t his clothes or hair that seemed to resemble someone who hadn’t spent 40 years in the apocalypse, it was his eyes. They were feral.

Pushing past the automatic fear of the feral man before him, Ben opened his mouth. “Are you going somewhere?”

Five pushed past him, leaving Ben pressed to the wall. “Why do you care?”

“My long lost brother just dropped out of the sky, forgive me for wanting to spend some time with him.”

“Fine. We’re getting Coffee.” Five, once again, didn’t even spare Ben a glance. Five had always been rather self involved, but Ben couldn’t help but notice the change. He was… darker. More animalistic.

Five insisted on driving, and Ben supposed he was older. Just as long as they didn’t get pulled over, they would probably be fine.

Didn’t stop Ben from being paranoid.

Ben stepped out of the car after they arrived. Griddy’s donuts. Ben had plenty of fond memories of the place, before it went to shit. Based on Five’s expression, he was focusing more on how it went to shit.

The menu in front of them looked good, but despite Ben’s hunger he couldn’t find it in himself to eat. “Can I have a coffee,” he asked the woman at the counter. 

She gave a curt nod. “Maybe milk for the kid?”

That feral expression consumed Five’s face again. “The kid wants coffee. Black.”

Leave it to Five to scare the ederly woman working at a coffee shop.

Once Ben was sure the woman wasn’t eavesdropping, he decided attempting to converse with his brother was a good idea. “Um, how have you been?”

“I was in the apocalypse for 40 years. How do you think I’ve been.”

That was one way to make Ben stop making conversation.

They sat in silence for only a few minutes, but it felt like longer. What had happened to this boy, who once cared so much for his family, to make him so callous?

Suddenly Ben felt something change in Five’s posture. Before he had time to react, however, Five’s voice cut through the diner.

“Found me.”

Ben turned around to spot multiple men, all with massive guns, standing behind them. All the guns, save for one pointing at Ben, were pointed at Five.

Ben froze. His brother was in danger. Ben had the means to kill them easily, but it would destroy Ben’s already damaged psyche. 

Five smirked up at the men. “Come to take me back to the commission?”

One of the men, who Ben couldn’t help but note resembled Luther, spoke. “Make this easy for us. I don’t want to have to shoot a kid, go home with that on my mind.”

Five had never properly looked at them, he had to be looking in the reflection of the bell. “Don’t worry.” Five reached towards the knife. “You won’t be going home.”

Just as Five started teleporting around the room, Ben’s phone started ringing.  _ Istanbul was constantinople…. _

The fighting, the screams, the  _ blood _ , it was all too familiar. He had to stay here, stay present. He couldn’t break down while in immediate danger. 

_ The pain in his abdomen, the screams, the bloo _

No. Focus.

_ The blood was pouring out of the man’s corpse. His shirt had been red before, Ben thought, no, hoped. He didn’t want to be responsible for that much blood leaving someone’s body. The man’s last emotion was agony, and it was all Ben’s fault. All of it. _

Shit. Ben had to focus. He was in the middle of being attacked. He was not stopping a crime. He was being victimized as part of one.

Something cold pressed against Ben’s head.

“Stop it, Number Five, or your friend here dies.”

The blue light stopped. “Ben. You know what to do.”

It was the only option. He had to let them out. He had to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t become a murderer again.

A sudden pain against his abdomen said otherwise. Let his brother die, or let some men die. The answer seemed simple. 

“Ben!”

In the end, it wasn’t Ben’s choice.

Pain ruptured through Ben’s abdomen as the monsters attacked. Five hid. Five hid from Ben, because Five was scared of him. Five was reasonably terrified of his brother.

Every scream seemed to cut through Ben’s skull straight into his mind. It was all too familiar.

The men were dead. 

The horror went back inside of Ben.

It was over.

Ben curled up in a ball, shoulders shaking. It was too much. He was a murderer.  _ Again. _ People were dead because of him. He was the real monster for allowing it to happen. 

Suddenly he felt arms around him. It was Five, Ben hoped. Or was it one of the ghosts, coming to get revenge on Ben for killing them? 

“Hey, it’s okay. Are you okay? Ben? Look at me.”

Ben heard Five, but he didn’t understand him. The words were all just noises to him. Ben started scratching at his arm, and then harder, even when he felt blood, and he would have gone harder if it weren’t for the hands that encompassed Ben’s hands. 

“D- Don’t do that. It’s okay, I’m so sorry Ben, it’s over now.”

Ben came back slightly. He could understand words, at least, but he was on autodrive. Everything seemed distant. He walked. He listened. He gave one word answers when prompted. That was it.

Five half-carried Ben to the bathroom. The sound of running water seemed to echo around him, like a creek.

_ Ben walked towards Klaus through the freezing water up to his knees. “Klaus!” Ben reached over to hug him, but was pushed aside. _

_ “The water’s rising, Ben!” _

_ Now that Ben thought of it, it was rising. The water had been at his knees only a moment ago, but was now a few inches above them. “I know!” _

_ “You need to go under, Ben!” When had the creek gotten so loud? _

_ “What?” Ben’s voice had become raspy due to the constant volume. _

_ “Go under!” Klaus’s voice wasn’t much better in terms of raspiness. “It’s the only way to wake up!” _

_ Ben trusted Klaus with his life. That much was true.  _

_ So he fell. _

_ The water was like ice, but Ben didn’t leave it. Even as he felt his vision going dark and a thud against his abdomen, he stayed under. _

Ben opened his eyes, gasping. Where was he? He was in the bathroom, the water was running, Five was there, and his sleeves were pulled up. 

Five was there, while Ben's sleeves were pulled up. 

Just as Ben had pulled his sleeves back down, the memories came back to him. The fight. The murders. The blood. 

Just as he feared, when Ben looked up, he was covered in red. It was like when he was a kid again. Red was everywhere, even his black hair was noticeably redder than usual.

Ben just stared. Caught in the memories.

He snapped back suddenly. He visualized a dark closet, and shoved it all in there. No more fear. No more death. 

“I need a shower.” Ben didn’t let his eyes meet those of the only sibling who hadn’t been walking on eggshells around him, but most certainly would be now.

Five didn’t meet Ben’s eyes. Figures. “There’s a shower at home.”

Ben was shaking his head before the sentence finished leaving Five’s mouth. “I don’t want them to know about this. Don’t tell them. Please.

“There are showers at the gym. Maybe stay out of sight, though.” Five still wouldn’t meet Ben’s eyes. Ben wasn’t a vase. He wasn’t a package labeled “fragile”. He was a human, but Ben knew if his family knew about just about everything that happened since arriving in the coffee shop, he would be treated as a vase or a package.

It had been bad enough after the suicide attempt, if they knew that Ben had broken down a second time he would never be seen normally again. 

They two brothers barely looked at each other as they walked towards the gym, which only exaggerated the awkwardness of the situation.

Eventually Five broke the silence. “I noticed something on your wrist when I was cleaning off your arm.”

Ben’s only reply was silence, and an increase of his walking speed. Avoiding his feelings and avoiding difficult conversations went well together. It had been 17 years, and Ben still wasn’t ready to think too hard about it. One day he locked all his feelings in a closet, and then left them to rot.

Eventually Ben arrived at the gym, and managed to keep his bloodied form out of sight. 

When he got in the shower, he couldn’t stop. Even when the only red on his skin was from exposure to the scorching water, he felt dirty. His mind felt dirty. So he washed it out in the only way he knew. 

When it had been an hour Ben still felt filthy, but he knew he had to get out. 

When he stared into the mirror it was with disgust.

If Ben thought it was impossible for anything to be more awkward than the walk  _ to _ the gym, he was quickly proven wrong by the walk back. Apparently running away isn’t the best way to deal with your problems. Who would’ve known.

Ben went back to his house to find Klaus asleep, so he changed into his pajamas and went to bed.

Well, that’s what should’ve happened.

What actually happened is Ben walked to the bathroom on autopilot. Despite every single cell in his brain screaming at him to stop, he grabbed his shaving razor.

He took out the blade.

He pressed it to his wrist.

He closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for~ drumroll please~ self harm, graphic violence, panic attacks, dissociation, murder, blood, General angst
> 
> ~~~~~~~
> 
> I'm sorry.... 
> 
> No I'm not
> 
> I regret nothing


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do be triggering tho (flushed emoji, use your imagination)

_ That’s a lot of blood _ , was the first thought to go through Ben’s mind after his relapse. Although Ben knew it wouldn’t be enough to kill him, it still caused anxiety to richot through his mind.

Funny how other people’s blood caused flashbacks, but Ben’s own blood grounded him.

Ben tried to think of all the reasons he had stopped cutting in the first place, but the only one that came to mind was the least important one - it was dangerous for Ben. 

If it hurt Klaus, or anyone other than Ben for that matter, only then would Ben care. But what they know can’t hurt them, and if they thought he was getting better they wouldn’t worry. Ben wouldn’t be a burden. 

Blood on the bathroom floor would definitely make them worry. Ben grabbed a washcloth and some bleach, and started wiping, and he didn’t stop until the floor was sparkling white and his kneecaps were sore. Despite - or maybe due to - the pain Ben wasn’t complaining.

Luckily, Ben had gauze in the bathroom cabinet. Klaus had always kept medical supplies in the bathroom as a precaution, but Ben was fairly certain Klaus had stopped checking if it had been used years ago. Ben wrapped the gauze around his arms and surveyed the surroundings. All cleaned up, all evidence disposed of.

Ben almost instantly fell asleep.

When Ben woke up the next morning, it wasn’t just him and Klaus. Diego was sitting at the table alongside Klaus, unusually quiet. Something seemed off to Ben. Had Klaus noticed the missing gauze? If so, why was Diego paying a surprise visit?

Diego’s obviously fake smile greeted him. “Good morning!”

If Diego said something polite, it was definitely fake.

“What’s going on?” As Ben sat down on the couch he noticed both Klaus and Diego tensed up at once. “I can see you guys are acting weird, why?”

Diego spoke, effectively sparing Klaus from having to confront an issue. “At my job, it seemed there was a retaliation against some attempted shooters. They were murdered in a very… familiar way.”

_ Murder murder mur- _ Ben fought off the flashbacks and intrusive thoughts, and instead put on an air on non chalance. “So you automatically assumed it was me, and not just someone who goes all out when killing. I haven’t used my powers in years, you know this.” The tone, the snark, the raised eyebrow were all part of Ben’s facade. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t judge you or anything like that if you did kill them.” 

Ben soldiered through the onslaught of kindness. “I’m sure.”

Diego walked out, oblivious as ever. 

Sometimes Five wondered what it would be like to be a cloud. They just floated along, without a problem or a care in the world.

Five had plenty of problems, and plenty of things to care about, no matter how much he tried to hide it under feral looks and snarky statements. 

The latest of those things to care about was Ben.

Five should have fought harder, jumped more, anything to keep Ben from having to use his powers. Five remembered the way Ben’s eyes seemed to show two arguing parts of someone perfectly. 

When Five had seen the scar on Ben’s wrist, his stomach had twisted for multiple different reasons. Ben had tried to kill himself. Five wasn’t there for Ben. Five had never expected to see the same scar that was on Five’s left wrist on one of his siblings.

Five lightly traced his fingers over his own scar. He had been young. Impulsive. He had forgotten his purpose, and tried to doom his siblings to death to achieve his own selfish escape. 

Five had plenty of other ways to escape. There had been no shortage of alcohol, or of knives in the apocalypse. Both were like a compromise to him, seeing as Five was unable to escape permanently he instead escaped temporarily. And then he didn’t stop escaping, not even 40 years later.

And now Ben, Five’s brother and friend, was hurting. Five had always considered it a possibility that Ben had PTSD what with the hell Dad would put them through, but Five never would’ve guessed in a million years how bad Ben had been hurting.

Before the diner, Ben’s hurting had been in the past. But then something had happened, and Ben had self harmed, and dissociated, and then tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Five would be a moron if he wasn’t worried. 

Five was not a moron.

Instead of being a moron, Five decided he would go check on Ben. Things were bound to be awkward, but Five would take awkwardness over Ben’s death any day.

Knocking never really was Five’s style. Teleporting, on the other hand, very much was. When the opportunity to search Ben’s house for anything dangerous arose, Five took it. Despite coming over every possible secret hiding spot for a blade, he found nothing. Unless Ben had one on him, that was a relief. 

When Five looked at the sleeves of Ben’s pajamas, all that relief vanished. Dark red stood out against the blue fabric, causing spots of red all over the left sleeve. 

When Ben entered, Five was sitting on the bed, holding the blue pajamas. The look on Ben’s face could only be described as apprehension, which was a fairly normal response to your brother sitting on your bed holding your bloody pajamas.

What Ben did next was unexpected, but not surprising - he did a 180 and walked out of the room.

Five ran up to Ben, and reached out for his right arm. “Come on, don’t just walk out.”

Ben swivelled around to face Five, effectively escaping Five’s grasp. “I’ll do what I fucking want, and it’s none of your buissness what I do!”

“You’re my brother! Of course it’s my business!” The role reversal was shocking - when had Five become so soft, and when had Ben become so feral?

The laugh that left Ben’s mouth was hardly a laugh - it was sarcastic and reflected all the pain of a man forced to kill at 12. “Please. You don’t even care about me.”

“Of course I fucking care about you, do you think I travelled back in time for shits and giggles?” Silence from Ben. “At least let me properly treat your wounds so they don’t get infected. A bit of gauze won’t solve anything.” 

Ben backed away like a deer being cornered by a pack of wolves. “No. You don’t get to touch me, and you don’t understand why I cut so don’t act like you do.”

Five let out a laugh devoid of happiness. “You think I don’t understand?” In a moment of pure impulse Five pulled up his sleeve to showcase every possible age of scar, from barely visible white lines to fresher scabs from last night, the large vertical scar standing out against the others. “Trust me, Ben, I understand. I understand it’s really fucking hard to stop, I understand about the endorphin release and the grounding and all that shit. You know what else I understand? How to clean wounds. So at least let me help you physically.”

Ben’s eyes lingered for a moment on Five’s sleeve, but Ben extended his left arm to Five with only silence.

Five pulled down his own sleeves as he pulled up Ben’s. “This is going to hurt a bit,” Five said as he poured alcohol on it. It was almost muscle memory, the way Five had been bandaging cuts for 40 years. Alcohol, wipe, bandage, repeat.

Five couldn’t help but notice Ben had been quiet ever since Five’s little sleeve stunt. What had Five been thinking, did he really want attention that badly? 

_ No,  _ a tiny voice inside his mind said.  _ You wanted to make him feel less alone. _

But how could Ben feel less alone when he was the only person on earth to have a monster living inside him?

Ben had been pretending to be okay. Mercifully, Five had not mentioned the events of three days ago to any of the other Hargreeves, and while they knew something was up they seemed to attribute it to stress from having Ben’s brother drop out of the sky. 

Ben had continued to cut himself, every night since he relapsed. He couldn’t see the point of stopping when he didn’t have 17 years of being clean behind him. 

March 27th was not one of those nights where he cut himself. On the morning of March 27th, Ben went to starbucks (he had been avoiding Griddy’s Donuts like the plague) for a cup of coffee. On March 27th, he met a man.

Ben took in everything about him. All of him, from the apron he wore, to the sparkle in his eyes, to the curly hair sitting atop his head. He was attractive, that was certain. A bit on the scruffy side, but being too well put together reminded Ben of Reginald, and Ben  _ really _ didn’t want to think of Reginald when looking for possible partners.

“One caramel latte, small, please.” Ben could barely repress the blush on his cheeks as he looked at the man in front of him.

That was it.

That was all their interaction.

Well, most of their interaction. 

When Ben looked at his latte, he noticed something. Some fairly innocent letters and numbers on his cup.

_ (206)682-7220 if you’re looking for someone ;) _

_ <3 Leonard _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: Blood (, blood, gallons of the stuff), murder, Ben being in a bad head space, too much comfort :'(
> 
> \------------------------------------------------
> 
> Demonic coffee shop AU


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers in this chapter I don't think? Yayyyyy! 
> 
> Here, have some normal fanfic in your travels :3
> 
> It's still a bit angsty but theres a million things i havent done, just you waaaaiiiiiiit!
> 
> whats your name man?
> 
> i have fucking daddy issues!
> 
> *Piano note*

How long was Ben supposed to wait before texting someone? Ben had gotten Leonard’s number about half an hour ago, and even though his excitement was flooding the room Ben didn’t want to come off as too eager. But what if he came off as not eager enough? What if he signaled too much nonchalance?

Who had decided dating was a good idea?

Ben decided it was best to wait 3 hours. His eyes scanned over his bookshelf, he had so much to read, but he didn’t want to get lost in the book and end up waiting too long. Eventually his eyes landed on the hunger games, and he set his alarm for 3 hours.

In a way Ben was in the hunger games. He had been pitted against not only the siblings, but the world. Loving was a death sentence. Ben had never had a partner, of course he’d spared a few glances to some people over the years, but he’d never dated, or anything close. The only love he had ever experienced was the familial love of his siblings. 

And now there was Leonard. Ben felt something towards him. It wasn’t sexual, in any nature, Ben just wanted to look at him non sexually forever. Leonard reminded Ben of a pretty painting, or a picture of coffee cups with the perfect contrast of darkness and light. 

Soon the alarm went off on his phone. He picked it up, and thousands of possible greetings started running through his mind. 

Eventually Ben decided on a simple  _ hey, its me from the starbucks _

The word “read almost instantly popped up, then three animated dots.  _ i know, i wasnt expecting anyone else _

Ben had to admit - he blushed at that. The coffee shop was definitely crowded, and Leonard had chosen him and only him. Ben wasn’t one of many. He felt special. 

Of course, Ben had to be smooth. He wasn’t going to pour out all his feelings on the 3rd message.  _ thanks lol. what r u doing? _

Leonard’s reply was almost instant.  _ i just finished reading to kill a mockingbird. have u read it? _

_ uh, yes?!?!?!?? thats my favorite book _ . Had Leonard been created specifically as Ben’s soulmate? 

The texting continued, and with every message Ben felt his fondness towards Leonard grow. 

Then, just like that, they had dinner plans.

It wasn’t anything particularly formal, just a diner,  _ Loveless, _ Ben had visited as a kid. Sometimes when everyone else was sneaking out to Griddy’s, Ben and Klaus, always the alienated of the group, would have their own meal at Loveless. It was always more fun than being seen as the quiet bookworm and the flamboyant druggie. All of the other Hargreeves had thought themselves better than Ben and Klaus. In each other's company, they were equals. Just two brothers, trying to survive in a world plotted against them.

There was something wrong about bringing Leonard to Loveless, but Ben didn’t want to change locations just because of some childhood memories.

Loveless had been Ben and Klaus’s special place. Not Leonards.

The only thing that managed to convince Ben to change plans was the anxiety of every possible way it could go wrong running through his head. What if Klaus saw them, and thought he was being replaced?

_ hey. want to go to the theater barn instead?  _

_ ofc. still at 6? _

_ yup, cya there! <3 _

That was it. No questioning. No secret hatred. Just three messages, asking about going to a different restaurant. 

Ben turned up the volume of his phone notifications, and read some more of the hunger games.

The art of getting Ben to like Harold was indeed an art. It involved perfect control of the sparkle of his eye, every subtle hint well thought out. Every interest, every cute little heart, was carefully yet quickly calculated. 

It was no secret that the Hargreeves were in need of anyone to love them. At first Vanya had been his target, due to the need for attention and grudge laid out for all to see in her book. She was powerless, however. She couldn’t do anything.

Ben, on the other hand, was a different story. Equally in need of attention, perhaps more, except with monstrous tentacles capable of killing 50 humans in under a minute. Not only that, but he was openly bisexual.

Harold had scoured every interview Ben had ever made an appearance in. It wasn’t easy, taking months to complete, but it led to Harold being able to understand everything about him, and use that to create the most compatible personality for Ben. 

If Ben was looking for honesty in a relationship, Harold would be as dishonest as possible to achieve it. If Ben was looking for kindness, Harold would put on a mask and then cruelly rip it off. That was as much an art as any drawing.

It wasn’t easy. Not in the least. One slip of Harold’s true personality, and everything he had worked for since childhood would be gone. 

It all came down to childhood in the end. Harold had his childhood ruined, and then the “heroes” of the umbrella academy laughed at him. Called him worthless. 

The satisfaction, the pure satisfaction of watching the very people who called him worthless, forced to beg him for mercy at his feet? Forced to watch their own family die, while they were powerless to stop it? It was what he fed off of.

They called him powerless.

This was Harold taking back the power. 

Ben had loved his date with Leonard. They may have only gone on one date, but it was like their souls were two halves, finally coming together. Where had Leonard been all of Ben’s life? Where was someone, anyone, to comfort him?

When Ben came home, Klaus was flopped over on the couch, wearing nothing but a jacket and a skirt. Ben could hardly retrain a smirk at the pure flamboyance of the outfit. 

Upon Ben’s appearance, Klaus jumped up and grinned. “Benerino! How was the date?”

“How did you know about that?” 

“I can see it in your eyes, the look of first love.” It didn’t take long for Klaus to get back to his old self after the funeral.

“I’d hardly call it first love,” Ben said with a sigh. “It was one date.” Even Ben knew that was a lie. He had only gone on one date, but Ben's thoughts were already filled with Leonard. Everything about Ben had to be perfect for Leonard. Would Leonard like his shirt? Would Leonard want Ben doing that? It was the new drug of his father’s attention. When one enabler died, there was another.

Klaus gave a slight laugh. “Trust me, you’d call it first love.”

Ben threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, you caught me. What do you want, to paint my nails while we gossip about boys?”

“So what’s their name?” Klaus was acting like he might actually want to paint Ben’s nails.

“His name is Leonar-” Just as Ben was about to finish his sentence,  _ Istanbul _ started playing loudly. Sure enough, when Ben took out his phone the screen had lit up and was displaying  _ Allison _ . “What’s up?”

_ “We need you and Klaus at the house. Now.”  _ Allison certainly seemed distressed, but Ben hadn’t a clue why. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

_ “It’ll be easier to show you.” _

“Fine, Klaus and I will be right over.”

Klaus opened his mouth in mock offense. “What? Speaking for me? So rude!”

Ben was already slipping on his shoes when he spoke next. “We’re needed at the academy. Come on.”

Ben leaned against the pillar, eyeing the TV screen. The same image was showing over and over, but he still couldn’t believe it. Mom wouldn’t do that. She was a caretaker. “Mom wouldn’t. It’s probably just a trick of the light making us miss something important.”

“It’s been 14 years since you and Klaus were last home. She could’ve changed drastically.” Luther’s large form was threatening, and Ben had to fight his instincts to not just submit.

Diego pointed at a spot on the screen. “Look at the monocle. Mom was taking it for cleaning.”

“Then where is it?” Luther gave Diego a fierce stare enough to scare Ben despite the stare not even being directed at him. “I searched all her things.”

Shame was plastered across Diego’s face. “I took it.”

A chorus of various exasperated expressions echoed across the room, and Ben wasn’t afraid to join them. Helping Mom was one thing, but hiding evidence was another.

“I knew if you found it on her you’d lose your shit, just like you’re doing now.”

Ben turned to Diego. “That doesn’t mean you can hide evidence!”

Vanya stepped up. “Stop fighting, guys. Look. Mom was a caretaker, she was supposed to intervene if someone was in danger.”

“Her hardware is degrading. We need to shut her off.” Figures Luther would take murder as the first option.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. She’s not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet! She has feelings!” The tension between Diego and Luther only increased by the minute, but Ben didn’t intervene. This was a daily occurrence.

Luther pointed threateningly and Diego. “She stood there, and watched our father die!”

Allison decided to voice her opinion. “I’m with Luther.” Well that was a shocker.

“I-” Vanya was promptly cut off by Diego.

Diego quickly interrupted her. “She doesn’t get a vote.” 

Ben moved towards Diego, and pointed a finger at him. “She’s our sister, and Mom is her mom. She absolutely get’s a vote.”

“She sold out our secrets and published them for the world to see!”

“Maybe that’s because you took every opportunity to tell her she was useless! She’s bound to be upset over that. Let’s face it, you were a complete asshole as a kid.” 

Vanya interfered with Ben and Diego’s spute. “Guys, stop. I don’t think we should shut down Mom, I think we should help her.”

Luther turned to Klaus. “What about you, ghost boy? What do you think?”

“Oh, so now you need my help? I’m with Diego, because fuck you, Luther.” Klaus just had to add to the argumentative atmosphere.

“Ben, what do you think?” This time it was Allison asking, as if she and Luther shared one brain. Ben had always suspected they shared one bed.

“I’m with Vanya. We should help her, not kill her. She’s our mom.” Ben attempted to keep his face nonchalant, but there was still an air of anxiety surrounding him and the prospect of not only his mother dying, but Ben’s mother being murdered by his brother. 

“We need Five here before we can properly vote. He’s family too.” The voice was quickly identified as Allison.

Ben sighed deeply. “Fine, we’ll get Five to vote.”

The Hargreeves dispersed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to cavetown, I guess I'm a real tran now uwu


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in end notes, blah blah blah.
> 
> This is a bit shorter than usual, my depression has been going brrr lately
> 
> ~diary time~
> 
> So ya bitch has been talking to his alters recently, and a one mentioned some trauma he held. Turns out we were raped. Yeah, not fun. We've also been dealing with cps, which is scary as fuck. So yeah.

They might kill Mom.

Mom - kind, loving Mom - might die. Not just any death, but murder at the hands of her own children. How could they even  _ think _ that? When Ben stopped working correctly, they didn’t kill him (no matter how much he would’ve liked that), they helped him, and Ben was just one of seven siblings. There was only one Mom, and she was the only one to tuck them in, the only one to hold them as they cried, the only one to show them any form of love.

When Luther messed up on a mission, it was Mom to assure him that no one gets everything correct. When Diego told Mom that he was a boy inside, it was Mom who helped him get testosterone. When Allison started eating less, it was Mom who noticed and helped her start eating normally again. When Klaus was locked in a mausoleum for hours, it was Mom who held him until he calmed down. When Five was too busy calculating to sleep more than 3 hours a night, it was Mom who would make him go to sleep. When Ben stood in the kitchen, staring at a knife, it was Mom who stayed with him and told funny stories until he calmed down. When Vanya cried herself to sleep because no one would notice her, it was Mom who gave Vanya all the love in the world.

Mom was the only good thing in their childhood, and they repaid that by seriously considering murdering her.

Tears started leaking from Ben’s eyes. Mom might die.  _ Mom might die. _ Ben tried to make them stop in the only way he knew how - with a razor. And sure enough, the tears turned into blood and fell out of his arm. More cuts, deeper and deeper, until the once-white sheets of Ben’s teenage bed were red  _ just another thing he ruined, what a fuckup _ but Ben kept cutting, he couldn’t stop, until he realized he couldn’t cut anymore. His arm had too many cuts to be able to fit anymore. 

Ben went to grab a roll of bandages, but he felt weird. Too weird. Had Ben lost too much blood, or was he just freaking out because he  _ couldn’t stop _ ?

Ben rolled down his sleeves, put one of the blankets over the sheets, and fell asleep.

Ben woke up -  _ Ben woke up  _ \- to gunshots. He leapt up, the red tears of the previous night quickly forgotten in the name of making sure his siblings were safe. Klaus had just gotten out of the bath, hair still plastered to his face when Ben saw him outside of the doorway. “What the hell’s happening?”

Klaus shrugged. “I don’t know, I just heard gunshots.”

A loud  _ thud _ echoed around Ben as he dashed down the stairs, to be greeted with two masked figures, each with their own large gun.

Ben jumped into a nook to avoid the  _ boom _ s of gun fire. It was the second loudest thing Ben could hear - the first was his heart rapidly assaulting his chest. He was terrified beyond belief over the noises, which would be understandable if he were scared of the guns. Strangely enough, those weren't what Ben was scared of. The noises, on the other hand, seemed to make every one of Ben’s brain cells go into alert mode. 

Ben tried to make himself as small as possible by curling into a ball, both for safety and comfort. As Ben dug his nails into his palm slightly, the anxiety started to cease. 

Once the anxiety ceased, along with the gunshots, Ben knew he had to find his siblings. 

Sure enough, they were standing in the foyer, along with an unconscious - or dead? - attacker. Luther stood in the middle, and he definitely looked different. Ben had suspected something had happened, what with the buffness and never wearing anything but a coat and gloves, but to be staring it in the face was something else. Luther’s head and neck looked normal, but his body was that of a gorilla. Fur and what seemed to be scratch marks - or self harm marks - were plastered onto the gray muscle, accompanying the emotionless expression on Luther’s face as he walked out. 

Everyone was silent for a few seconds until Diego spoke up. “Did you guys know?”

Ben, Allison, and Vanya shook their heads.

As Ben prepared to exit and hopefully change his sheets, he noticed Diego linger. What could Ben do but spy?

As Diego walked towards Mom, Ben couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. After a short conversation, Diego grabbed Mom’s arm.

He made a slit.

He grabbed a wire.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ben stood in shock at the attempted murder before him. “What the actual fuck, Diego?”

Diego turned towards Ben with well deserved guilt, but kept silent. Even Diego knew that there were no excuses to justify this.

Ben walks towards Mom, who was smiling yet confused even with a slit up her arm. “You were going to kill Mom. You were going to kill her.”

“She was broken. I was putting her out of her misery.” Diego’s stare seemed to burn a hole directly through the floor in shame. 

“Oh, so that’s what you call this?” Ben couldn’t help but raise his voice. “That’s how you try to justify murdering your mother? The only person to ever show us kindness in this hellhole, and you try to fucking kill her! You’re evil!”

Ben’s voice must have been raised too much, because Klaus ran into the room, panting slightly. “What’d I miss? Because everyone seems awfully upset.”

At this point Ben had turned into a fiery ball of repressed rage. “Diego tried to murder Mom!”

“Whoa.” Klaus’s mouth fell open into an almost-perfect O. “What the hell, Diego? You’re the one who loves her most out of everyone.”

Diego started to attempt to justify his actions, but Ben interrupted him. “Get out of my fucking sight, Diego. Mom, follow me.”

Even once Mom was safe and Diego was off hopefully being ashamed of himself, Ben still had gallons of bottled rage hiding beneath his skin, just waiting to be let free, and Ben only knew one way to let free the things beneath his skin. With a razor.

Swipe after swipe added to the blood on Ben’s bed, until all the anger was there. For Ben, emotions were blood and blood was emotion. When Ben looked back at the bed he felt sick almost. 

Was it healthy to have lost this much blood in this little time?

Ben pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he grabbed the now-red sheets off of his bed. It would probably be best to run the wash immediately, and not have the risk of someone finding bloody sheets and thinking of the only umbrella kid with a known history of self harm.

Five’s cuts weren’t exactly known, were they? Five would occasionally wear t-shirts before he disappeared, so it must have started during the apocalypse, and he was hardly known for talking about his emotions. Unless another of Ben’s siblings had fallen into this. It was unlikely with the majority of them, but Diego and Vanya had never been the most mentally healthy. Diego had gender dysphoria, Ben knew, but he had been stealth for years. Just because Diego had tried to kill Mom, didn’t mean Ben wanted him to do that. Vanya was always cast out of the family, that couldn’t have had a good effect. 

Ben pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He really didn’t want to be thinking about if his siblings were self harming. 

Even at the beep of the washer, the sheets still were red tinted. It was almost unnoticeable, though, and Ben deemed it safe. 

When Ben stepped foot in his home, it seemed to be radiating an eerie energy. The silence seemed to attack every one of Ben’s nerves, as if every creak of the floor was about to take form and rip Ben to shreds. 

Ben tried to repress his nerves as he walked towards his bed. Klaus must not be home yet. 

Ben turned the corner into his room, and the last thing he heard before going everything going black was a large crash against his skull. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic self harm, discussion of murder, panic attacks
> 
> This is how I cope with self harm urges, on that note 10 days clean for meeee


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers at the end, nothing *too* bad this chapter.
> 
> So I may start updating less often, I mean updating every two days isn't a normal amount of commitment lol. And I have school, as much as I hate it. 
> 
> Short chapter again, sorry. But hey! You're gonna get some Klave! And hopefully more angst to come :)

When Ben opened his eyes, there were three things he realized.

One. He was tied to a chair. The ropes refused to give way no matter what he tried, instead just biting into the skin of his arm. His arms weren’t the only thing retrained, however. There was something wrapped around Ben’s torso, probably to restrain the horror. As if Ben would actually use it. 

Two. Ben was in nothing but a towel, which was wrapped around his waist. He presumed he was also wearing boxers, but nothing could be certain. The cuts that covered Ben’s arm were on full display, but for once in his life Ben had bigger priorities. That didn’t mean Ben wanted to have everyone know. If Klaus wasn’t in their home, he was probably here with Ben. Ben looked around to spot him and -

Three. Ben was in a motel, with Klaus unconscious next to him. There was no one else in sight, although Ben had a feeling that was going to change soon. There were no signs to who had held him hostage or why, but people targeting the Hargreeves wasn’t a new concept by any means. They had a tendency to make enemies, it wasn’t unexpected, just inconvenient. 

Ben’s head felt fuzzy, and soon it went black again.

The world filled with something resembling light as Ben’s eyes snapped open. There were two figures, both wearing comically large masks, standing in front of him. Ben couldn’t see their expression through the mask, but they didn’t look friendly. Of course, the fact that they had Ben and his brother kidnapped wasn’t making them seem friendly.

Someone - presumably a woman - spoke to Ben. “You  _ will _ tell us where Number Five is.” Of course it’s Five. It’s always Five.

The first rule of being interrogated is that you are the only irreplaceable person in the torture chamber. The room is yours, so work it. The two figures couldn’t kill Ben, and he knew that.

Except Ben wasn’t the only irreplaceable person in the torture chamber. So was Klaus. If it was just Ben, that would be one thing. But Klaus was in danger. The torturers could kill one of them and still have someone to torture. Killing one might not be the smartest choice, but it was one of them. 

If they were going to threaten Ben with Klaus’s death, there was only one thing he could do - die faster. 

That might not work though, would it? If Klaus was alone, he would be even more important. They wouldn’t let go as easily. 

Looks like Ben will have to stay alive. Pity, really.

The first step of staying alive was talking to the torturers. “I don’t know where he is. He doesn’t talk to us much.”

Red hot pain flashed against Ben’s face as the female spoke again. “Tell us. Where he is.”

“I told you. I don’t know.” If Ben were able to shrug, he would. 

The punches kept coming at Ben rhythmically. Eventually, the other torturer - presumed a man - spoke. “He probably doesn’t mind being hit. Maybe try the other guy?”

_ Shit. _ Ben needed to say something. Make something up? Risky, but selling out Five was out of the question. “He’s in the library. Near the academy.”

The torturer in the pink dog mask looked to the other. “Well? Let’s go! You two will be staying here.”

Ten seconds. 

Ben started moving his chair towards the coffee table, where a pocket knife sat. Hopefully, he’d be able to get through the rope with it.

The noise must have woken up Klaus, because a thrashing and muffled screams came from behind Ben, who managed to get rid of the ropes. Klaus didn’t seem to have seen Ben’s arms yet, and while Ben knew it wouldn’t last for much longer he chose to avoid that thought and focus on the task at hand.

It was unavoidable, best to just get it out of the way and not talk about it. Ben got to work untying Klaus, who went silent as soon as he caught a glimpse of Ben’s arms. 

Klaus stood up from the chair, avoiding eye contact with Ben. Just great. Klaus probably thought Ben was weak, pathetic for relapsing.

“Come on.” Ben all but dragged the half naked Klaus out of the room, and into the laundry room where some normal clothing - preferably with long sleeves - was stored.

Ben tossed Klaus an outfit that looked like a good fit over to him, and grabbed a sweatshirt and some sporty shorts. 

Klaus’s voice drifted towards Ben, whose back was turned to him. “When did you relapse?”

“We’re being tortured and held hostage. Can we do this another time?” Ben’s heart was racing. He hadn’t intended for Klaus to know about the relapse in the slightest, but kept his voice even with a dash of sarcasm.

Mercifully, Klaus was silent. It was unnervingly unusual, despite the fact that it was exactly what Ben had prayed for. 

As Ben was about to leave the hotel, fully clothed, something caught his eye. A pink dog head. Walking into the motel. “Shit. We need to find another way out.” Ben dragged Klaus in the direction that was away from the torturers, and darted in the only open door - the door that the brothers had originally been held hostage in.

Ben glanced around the room. The only escape seemed to be a vent, but a shitty escape was better than being recaptured. 

Of course, the vent wasn’t empty, but there are worse things. Ben crawled forwards, periodically checking behind him to make sure Klaus was still there, until the end came into sight. 

The fresh air was a relief, and even though Ben knew he looked like shit covered in blood _ it wasn’t his he couldn’t get it off _ and he was getting stares, he didn’t care. He was just relieved to be free.

Ben looked at the object in his hands. It appeared to be a briefcase of sorts, but the contents were uncertain. 

Just as Ben had concluded opening it to be a poor course of action, Klaus attempted to pop the latch. “We don’t know if it’s sa-”

The flash of blue was the last thing Ben would see in 2019 for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: Torture, referenced self harm. Enjoy~
> 
> Let's see how hard I can project onto Ben :)))))))


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in the depresso feels recently (yeah about that 10 days clean....) so here's a sorta late and shitty chapter ✌️ I even added some fluff for a false illusion of safety
> 
> So I've decided to stop putting triggers for individual chapters, let me just say this: there will be more graphic self harm, there will be more graphic suicide, and there will be major character death. Not telling who though, mwahahahaha.

Once Ben could properly see, he barely had time to process what was happening. It was dark - very dark - and the two brothers were all but alone, yet that still wasn’t the worst thing. The worst thing had to be the building, or what the building represented. A barrack. A barrack in Vietnam. Ben had family and a boyfriend at home, and now he was in Vietnam, with no chance of escape any time soon. 

It just had to get even worse, didn’t it? There just had to be a loud boom nearby, Ben and Klaus just had to fight in the fucking Vietnam war.

The only way to describe the fight was sheer terror. Ben’s heartbeat seemed to be at 200 bpm the entire time, whether it was due to the near death, the loud noises, or a combination of the two was unknown. Being tortured by the mask wearers was  _ nothing _ compared to this shit. Every single bomb sent Ben into a panic, and every time Klaus got the smallest bit out of Ben’s sight almost brought tears.

Finally the terror ended. Ben curled himself into a ball with a book that one of the other soldiers had brought, while Klaus just eyed Ben.

Where had these past dozen days gone wrong? Every time something good happened, it was ripped away as soon as Ben had started to get used to it. Amazing boyfriend? 50 years, half the world, and a major war away. Long lost brother falling out of the sky? Same situation. And that’s only to count for what actually had a good thing. The rest of the time was just shit after shit. Dead father. Forced murder. Relapse. Torture. Secrets exposed. Teleportation. War. Saying Ben had hit rock bottom was tempting, however it was all too obvious there was no rock bottom to this utter shitshow. 

A tap on Ben’s shoulder interrupted his reading. “We need to talk.” Of course it was Klaus, probably planning on lecturing Ben about his relapse. 

Ben barely acknowledged Klaus’s words, simply stating “no we don’t” while turning the page to his book. “Look, we have bigger problems than me relapsing. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the Vietnam war - and fighting in it.”

“Well I have a feeling that won’t change any time soon. I can’t find the briefcase, and the war isn’t a short one. We might as well talk now.”

“Fine. Let’s at least get some privacy.” Ben walked out of the tent, and kept walking until Ben and Klaus were far from hearing range. 

Klaus waited a few seconds, lost in thought, and then spoke. “Why?’

A simple question, yet a very complex answer. Why? Why did Ben give up 17 years of being clean just to get a tiny burst of endorphins? Might as well tell the truth. All of it. “I had to let them out again. Someone had a gun at my head, and were trying to make Five come with them, and I didn’t have a choice. I guess it was too much.”

A slight inhale of air sounded from Klaus’s direction. “Jesus. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but there are better ways to cope with this shit. And those cuts were more than one night. You really need to stop.”

Ben shot a glare at the dark figure that was barely identifiable as Klaus. “It’s none of your fucking buissness if I stop or not. It doesn’t hurt you.”

“It does hurt me.” Klaus’s voice broke a bit. Nice going, Ben, he made his brother cry. “It hurts me to see you hurt. I care about you.”

“Care less.” Ben turned around and walked to the camp, ignoring Klaus. 

If Ben wanted to hurt himself, whose business was it but his own? He wasn’t 14 years old, laying on a hospital bed with a massive slit in his arm anymore. It was a miracle - or curse - that he survived that. Right now, Ben was wishing he had died before he had to witness the shitshow known as March 24th--present. 

What day was it, anyway? Once back in camp, Ben searched for someone who would know the date. He pulled aside a fairly tall man with a small mop of curly black hair on top of his head. “Hey, do you know the date?”

“April 13.” He had a slightly goofy expression on him, as if humor could let them escape a war zone.

“Pretend I’m really stupid, what year is it?” Ben figured fitting in didn’t involve asking a random stranger what year it was, but the year was necessary knowledge.

“1961, same as yesterday.”

“Thanks.” Ben walked towards the sleeping area he had been laying in previously, only to spot a figure identifiable as Klaus watching him “discreetly.” Upon Ben making eye contact, Klaus turned the opposite way. Ben internally sighed, opening back up the book he had been reading before,  _ the Great Gatsby. _

It took about one week - one week of almost pure boredom - for Klaus to begin acting normal around Ben again. In that week, Ben had not been clean by any means, but instead decided cutting on his legs instead would be a smart move. Although he didn’t enjoy lying to Klaus by any means, if it was the only way to make Klaus start to show his signature smile again it was necessary. 

When Ben glanced towards his brother, he seemed to be very friendly with one of the soldiers. Overly friendly. Leave it to Klaus to find his potential boyfriend in the vietnam war. 

A loud shout called Klaus’s friend away, which seemed to signal to him that Ben was the next person to talk to. Klaus sat cross legged next to Ben, who had looked up from his book. 

Ben gave a slight smile. “Who’s the friend?”

“Oh, no one. Just the only known gay person in this entire war club.” A grin appeared on Klaus’s face.

“Hey, I’m a known bisexual in the future.” Telling the press about his sexuality was possibly the bravest - and best - thing Ben had ever done. 

“In the future, Benerino!” Klaus’s mock bickering brought Ben back to their home for just a moment, remembering when times were simpler. Just two brothers, having something resembling a simple life. “This is the 60s, and Dave is about as gay as it gets. Plus, you’re my brother. Don’t go all Luther on me over here.”

Ben recoiled, laughter painting his features in happiness. “Ew, no! I don’t think Reginald needed a serum to make Luther a monkey if he was fucking his sister.”

Klaus fell backwards in laughter. “I really, really wish I didn’t think in images right about now.”

“Oh, you think in images? Hm… I could use this to my advantage.” A wicked smile spread across Ben’s images as every crude and disturbing thing he had ever thought of was conjured as potential weaponry.

“Don’t you dare-” 

Ben cut Klaus off. “Donald Trump shaving his balls.”

Klaus playfully hit Ben on the back of the head. “Asshole!”

Ben was about to think of something else to say when someone barked Klaus’s name. The taller of the brothers gave Ben a wink before disappearing into the night, hopefully to prove that they weren’t meant to be in Vietnam.

All the happiness that had been stirring inside of Ben dissipated. He had lost so much. All of his siblings, his boyfriend, his entire life. Gone. Tears started to form at Ben’s eyes as he remembered his siblings smiling in days long gone.

Just a couple minutes ago Ben had been laughing and smiling, and now look at him. A mess. A pathetic mess, sobbing over some people who didn’t even like him.

Ben couldn’t cry. Boys don’t cry. Boys could feel pain, though, and plenty of it. He shoved the pocketknife in his pocket and walked out the backdoors into the woods, routinely checking to make sure his footsteps were silent so as to not disturb the other soldiers.

The knife was a cool presence in Ben’s hand as he weighed it gently in his palm. Everything seemed to slow down as he unfolded the blade, as he placed it to his exposed leg, and he swiped. Then swiped again. Then again. He was about to swipe again when-

“Ben?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly if my kids were fucking eachother I would've killed myself too, I never thought I'd relate to reginald but here we are

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to my awesome beta reader saddest-rat on tumblr!


End file.
